


Holy Night Supper

by Exstarsis



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Fade to Black, Fluff, Romance, Tsunderes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2020-10-17 10:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exstarsis/pseuds/Exstarsis
Summary: Saber Alter gives Jeanne Alter a present only she can provide. Inspired by the FGO Craft Essence.





	Holy Night Supper

It was Christmas in Chaldea, and Jeanne Alter lurked in her usual corner of the cafeteria, hoping she could get through her lunch before one of the other Jeannes showed up to annoy her. She occasionally managed it, after all, and _attendre et espérer_, as her associate liked to say.

Today it was worse. Amakusa found her instead, sitting down across from her and babbling his usual nonsense. She ate faster in response, trying to tune him out.

Suddenly a cry from Marie caught her attention. “Artoria, you are making this trip to the legendary shopping district?”

Jeanne looked up quickly and saw that damned queen standing with Nitocris and waving at Artoria Alter and Nero.

“Of course,” said the blackened Artoria. “After all, as a king, all eyes will be on me tonight. And I know the importance of looking good on holy days.” Her gaze flicked around the room and met Jeanne Alter’s, and she sneered. “Unlike some people.”

Gaily, Marie said, “I’m sure it will be wonderful. I’m so looking forward to the twinkling lights and the shops and beautiful snowflakes.”

Amakusa, amused, said quietly to Jeanne, “Royalty being self-indulgent. Not the kind of luxury we need, eh, Jeanne?”

“Hah!” Jeanne stood up. “Speak for yourself, asshole.” She grabbed her tray and marched past the congregation of crowned heads to put it away. By the time she was done, they’d left the cafeteria.

“Rotten little shits,” Jeanne muttered as she wandered down the hall. She absolutely wasn’t following them, so when she found herself in the rayshift chamber, she assumed black magic had been at work. As a witch, she felt qualified to _declare_ there’d been magic at work.

“Jeanne!” called Marie. “We are going to the Shinjuku! Will you come with us?”

“Yes! Jeanne!” said Nero regally, with her brilliant smile. “Come along and enjoy the festive season.”

“Hah,” muttered Artoria. “Even you can’t turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse, Nero.”

“Oh, how can you say that, Saber?” whispered Nitocris.

Bristling, Jeanne said, “All of you can fuck off. Why would I want to hang out with a bunch of spoiled bitches?”

Nitocris yelped and hid behind Artoria, while Marie and Nero both had the gall to _giggle. _However, Artoria was pissed and that was what mattered. The altered Saber stepped in front of the other women and said coldly, “Watch it, mad dog. Nobody asked you to butt in here.”

Jeanne hissed furiously. “I’ll burn you, ice bitch queen!”

“Of course you will. That’s all you can do. You clearly don’t know the first thing about looking good.” Her pale eyes flicked over Jeanne and she sneered again. “So much wasted potential.”

“Fuck off. Move over. I’m coming along. I’ve got a damned imperial inviation and, hah hah, emperors outrank kings.”

Jeanne didn’t quite understand why everybody but Artoria grinned at each other, but she understood why Artoria rolled her eyes. Bitch. Jeanne would show her.

And so, Jeanne Alter went on a girls’ shopping trip in Shinjuku. It was _even more disgusting_ than she could have imagined. Everytime she turned around, Marie or Nero was holding something out to her.

“Jeanne, won’t you try this?”

“You absolutely must try this!”

But Jeanne certainly wasn’t going to let them boss her around. She almost left a few times, except she could see Artoria getting more and more annoyed by her continued presence.

Besides, if she left, Artoria would just tell the others she’d run away. Hah!

Then Nitocris meekly showed Jeanne a dress and confessed, “I have no idea how to wear something like this.”

Jeanne felt an unusual surge of pity for the earnest, sweet-tempered little pharaoh, along with, of course, a desire to show off what _she_ could do. “Right! Let me show you how it’s done.”

And it was weird, but after that, suddenly Marie and even occasionally Nero just couldn’t figure out how to wear anything right. Around then, Jeanne started enjoying herself. Once or twice, she even found herself giggling at a clever joke from Marie.

Meanwhile, Artoria Alter simply lurked. She never tried on anything. She barely talked. She was _probably_ eating her heart out with envy over how well Jeanne was getting along with her entourage. But that was Jeanne d’Arc Alter, bitch! It made the Avenger laugh even more.

Finally, Jeanne caught Artoria looking at a long black dress with a layered skirt slit to the hip and a bow right where everybody would be looking. She couldn’t help taunting the Saber. “Finally thinking of getting something, ice bitch queen? What, are you looking at that? That doesn’t suit you; you’re far too frozen to show that much skin.” Chortling, Jeanne snatched the dress away from her and made for the changing room.

When she emerged, fussing with the bow, and glanced up into Artoria’s widening eyes, Jeanne suddenly _knew_ she had to have the dress, just so she could remember that look on the bitch queen’s face forever.

And then, of course, Jeanne had to wear it during the Chaldea Christmas party. She hated herself even more than usual as soon as she stepped into the room. She’d spent her last qp on this rag and now everybody was staring at her wondering who she was trying to impress. Nobody, that’s who!

She sat at the bar, cursing out everybody who approached her and so only three people asked her to dance: Master, Amakusa and Dantes. Master, she of course accepted, complaining about Artoria the whole time.Amakusa she threatened as usual, and he retreated smiling. But by the time Dantes came along, her pattern of drinking each time somebody wished her a Merry Christmas meant she accepted, because why not?

Besides, just like Master, he didn’t try to piss her off. All he did this time was ask her how much she’d had to drink and warn her to be careful.

After they were done, she put her head down on her hands at the bar, wondering when she could finally go back to her room without anybody following her to scold her like she had some obligation to socialize.

Where the hell was that blackened king anyhow? She’d wanted to gloat about the dress—

Dantes touched her shoulder and she jolted upright. “Go home,” he told her. “I’ll make sure nobody follows.”

Unsteadily, she did so. But as soon as she entered her room, she smelled a rat. Or, more accurately, a sweet fruity scent and the amber musk of Artoria Alter, lounging on her couch in a short black cocktail dress.

“What the hell are you doing here? Get out. I’m not in the mood for an ambush.” She peered closer, realizing Artoria held a wineglass. “Hey, what’s that you’re drinking?”

Artoria’s mouth twitched. “Alsatian ice wine. You were too busy playing dress-up to notice when I picked it up today.”

“Shut your mouth. I saw the way you looked at me.” Jeanne’s teeth clicked together as she suddenly realized Artoria was looking at her like that again.

Then Artoria stood up. “Well, since you’re not in the mood for an ambush, I’ll be going.”

“What the hell? You’re not drinking rare French wine without me.” She sat down, poured some in the other glass Artoria had bought and sipped it cautiously. “Wow. Isn’t this shit too sweet for an edgy bitch like you?”

“Yes,” said Artoria, watching Jeanne lick her lips.

“Idiot. Shouldn’t a king know about wines? Hah!”

Artoria drained her glass of wine. “I knew exactly what I was getting, mad dog.” She stood up again and circled Jeanne, inspecting the dress. “How’d you even get that thing on the first time?”

“Wasn’t easy, let me tell you. Almost thought about asking for help,” mumbled Jeanne. The wine really was good.

Artoria stood right behind her. “Asking who?”

Jeanne blurted, “Nero! Nitocris! Amakusa! Certainly not _you_.”

The Saber’s fingers brushed against Jeanne’s neck. Somehow the touch combined with the ice wine to create a whole new kind of fire in Jeanne’s belly. “Yeah, you’re way too much of a little coward to have ever asked me.” Her fingers stroked down Jeanne’s spine. “But I’m here now.”

“Ice bitch queen,” muttered Jeanne, but suddenly she craved the heat generated by touching that perfect coolness. “Hey, since you’re here, make yourself useful and unlace me.”

And Artoria did. When she was done, she slid the straps of Jeanne’s dress down her shoulders.

The dress slithered down to Jeanne’s hips. Jeanne thought to herself, _Bet goody-goody Jeanne would never do this, _took a deep breath, stood and turned to face Artoria. Without hesitating, because she was damn well _not_ a coward, she put her arms around Artoria’s neck. “You owe me, you know. I spent everything I had on this dumbass dress, just because of you.”

A half-smile touched the Saber’s mouth as she brought her hands up to Jeanne’s bare breasts. As Jeanne closed her eyes, shivering at the sensation of Saber’s thumbs over her nipples, Artoria said, “I would have bought it for you, but you got ahead of me.

“Like I would have let you,” breathed Jeanne.

Saber suddenly kissed her hard, her hands in Jeanne’s hair, before saying with a laugh, “You’re absurdly easy to manipulate, mad dog.”

Jalter growled and bit her mouth. “Fuck off.”

“Mm, I think I’ll fuck you instead.” Artoria’s hands slid Jeanne’s dress over her hips and squeezed her ass as the silk pooled on the carpet.

“I’m drunk. You’re taking advantage of me. That’s not very kingly. Not that I expected any better of you,” said Jeanne smugly as she reached around and unzipped Artoria’s dress.

“On the contrary, taking advantage of innocent maidens is _very_ kingly… but in this case I’m drunk too, and you’re wearing that dress.” Her hands ran over where the dress had been. “…Well,you were. Everybody who saw you tonight would agree I’m the victim here…”

“Hah, I’m the dog but you’re the one yapping—oh!”

And after that, there were no more words for quite a while, and eventually no more moans either. The silence of the holy night fell, until finally one of the silhouettes in the bed rolled to her feet, picked up her dress, and then bent over to whisper in the Avenger’s ear before walking out of her quarters.

“Merry Christmas, Jeanne.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find more of Jeanne Alter and Saber Alter as a very tsun couple in my story [The Star and the Darkness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963096) where they are major supporting characters.


End file.
